


if i ever feel better

by NorthOfSomewhere



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Angst, Dark Spain (Hetalia), Depression, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-06
Updated: 2020-09-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26319406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthOfSomewhere/pseuds/NorthOfSomewhere
Summary: Romano remembers, Spain doesn't.
Relationships: South Italy/Spain (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	if i ever feel better

**Author's Note:**

> Not meant to be bashing, I actually like Spain as a character. It's kind of based around that one comic panel (?) where France was wondering how much other countries remembered of their past. So the idea is: what if Spain doesn't remember any of the bad stuff.

Romano can feel it as he enters the building, a certainty written in his nerves; today is going to be shit. He's proven right a moment later when he shoves open the conference room door and Spain is the first person he sees. _He's here early._ Romano clenches his fists, takes a deep breath and stalks towards his usual table. He doesn't get very far.

"Roma, wait up!" He hears Spain call. The sound of his voice brings with it a rush of adrenaline. He feels a hand on his wrist, tugging him backwards. He turns with the movement, yanking his arm away as he does. He circles his own fingers around his wrist, it doesn't hurt, but it's reassuring to rewrite the ghost of Toni's touch with his own. Erasing the bad.

"How are you?" Spain asks, smiling.

_What the fuck?_

"Fine." Romano manages to say without snapping. It's a conference, so he has to stay professional. Somewhat professional. He doesn't return the question. _You don't get to have a_ pleasant _conversation with me, asshole._ There's an awkward pause.

"I have to go Spain, work to do." He waves the folder he's carrying, stuffed full of paperwork. Spain has the gall to look _sad_ when Romano starts to walk away. The rush of anger is all he's focusing on now, trying to calm down. So he doesn't notice Spain walking towards him again. He does notice when Spain grabs his hand. He starts to pull back, but Antonio, Spain is faster and suddenly he's being hugged. He freezes, his body rooted to this spot, his heart racing. _No, no, no, no._ "After?" Spain is saying in his ear. "I miss you so much Roma. You'll come over soon, right?"

Romano nods, the movement stilted and mechanical. Spain is too close, the nod sees their cheeks brush together briefly. Even that half a second contact is too much. "Y-yeah, Spain. Soon." He says, hoping that will placate him. Spain pulls back to beam at him, so so happy and oblivious to the fact that Romano is far from that in this moment.

"I'll let you get back to your work." He's the one walking away, but he knows Spain, he pushes things and always wants more. He should have been expecting that, but now he's alert. He watches Spain walk away, doesn't want to turn his back to him again. So he sees when Spain turns back, but somehow he's not expecting the words that come next. "I love you, Romano."

It's reflex that brings him to say "I love you too." He hates himself for it. Hates the look on Antonio's face, like Romano just handed him something precious.  
  


* * *

He's somewhere else. A loud ringing in his ears, muffling the world. His vision fuzzy, shrinking to a pinprick. He looks down at his hands, his fingers. There's blood, blood and --

Romano is yanked from his memories back to the present by a light tug on his sleeve. His brother. He notices he's breathing erratically and forcibly slows it down. It hurts to do. He lets his brother touch him even though it's only Feli that the act brings comfort to. He doesn't want to push him away. He gives his brother a look he hopes comes across as grateful. And even though it feels more like a grimace than anything else, Feli must see something because he grabs Romano's hand and smiles at him. And its not that mindlessly happy one he's usually sporting. Smaller, more real.

"Come sit with us," He's saying. Romano answers with a shrug even though his brother isn't even looking at him anymore. He lifts his hand in a half-hearted wave as they approach the table. Ludwig nods. Gilbert grins, waving him over, he moves his legs from the chair he was using as a foot stool and even dusts it off before presenting it to Romano with a loud "Ta-da!" Romano rolls his eyes, but murmurs a thank you as he sits. He's in between Gil and Feli, with Ludwig to the right of Feli.

He feels as though there's a thought bubble above his head telling the world about his insecurities and doubts, because Gilbert pats his shoulder firmly, nodding as he does, and then launches into a story from his past. Embellished no doubt, but honestly entertaining as hell. Romano still loves knights and all that even though Spain tried to discourage him from them, maybe he likes them for that reason. To spite him. He had tried to get Romano to stay away from Gilbert too.  
  


* * *

Spain is walking down the hallway. Romano hears his him whistling, badly, some mindless tune. He will knock. It doesn't matter what Romano says. He will come in anyway. If Romano lets his anger slip through, and lets is the wrong word, if his carbonated anger bubbles out and Spain is in a good mood, he'll just laugh as he walks in, tousling Romano's hair roughly when he reaches him. Belgium doesn't like this, but she won't say anything. Later, she carefully brushes his hair until its smooth and tangle free. He can do it himself but he lets her. She seems to find some comfort in this act. She murmurs soothing words he can't understand. Its always the same. Unless Spain is in a bad mood. And Romano isn't good at containing his emotions. Most of the time, the marks from these incidents can be hidden beneath his clothes.  
  


* * *

Romano is young, far less cynical. He waits, beneath a tree in the orchard, for his brother to visit. It changes sometimes, depending on what time of day it is, how far he's willing to walk. Mostly it's the same. There's a good tree, wide enough to lean against that he won't be seen if someone were to come up behind him. It's one of the things he looks for in a waiting tree. That, and a nice bed of moss. He waits. He waits as the sun traces its path across the sky, until it reaches the other horizon and Romano can't keep his eyes open any longer. They inevitably close and he drops into sleep like a stone.

His brother never shows.

He doesn't understand.

Feli sends him letters, asking to visit him, and 'big brother' Spain. And Romano writes back every time, messy in his excitement, but still legible. He says of course, there's so much he wants to show him, how he can't wait to see him again.

Whenever he finishes, he has Spain read it over for him to see if there are any mistakes. Or as he phrases it to Spain: "See how amazing I am at writing letters, Spain. Ha!"

Spain smiles and says "Of course, Roma. Would you like me to send this for you?"

Romano nods, then Spain waves him off saying how busy he is. What Romano doesn't see is, Spain holding the letter to the candle flame until it is nothing but ash.

Romano awakes in the dark, under the tree leaves, shivering and stumbling to his feet. He slowly makes his way back to the main house.

And if there are any tears, no one notices. His face is always clear by the time he reaches the door.

* * *

The years have seen them differently. They look much the same, except Feli has been sewn with light and Romano's seams are bursting with darkness. He doesn't know how to talk to his brother anymore, if he ever did. Anger is just a part of him now the way happiness is a part of Feli. He can't get rid of it. Sometimes he thinks that if his anger was gone his soul would burn out. He never learned another way. Spain is very good at cultivating anger. Spain is made of anger, jealousy and greed. “I need more, Roma, please.” Tricks of the tongue, he knows how to make Romano sing.  
  


* * *

If he’s being honest with himself, being around Spain makes his stomach knot up in anxiety. It gets to the point at times where he feels the need to scream to rid himself of the pressure. Of course, he doesn’t. He can’t. Because if he let go here, he wouldn't be able to stop. He settles for clenching his fists, nails digging into his palms. When Spain gets drunk and crawls into his bed, he lets it happen because that's just what they do. What they've always done.

* * *

"You made me into what you wanted." Romano says, and Spain is watching him. Eyes wide, tears falling.

"I don't know who I am." Romano chokes out, trying not to cry and his throat fucking hurts from the effort. "I need to figure that out, without you."

"I just want to help you, Roma," Spain's voice sounds rough too, though he's openly sobbing. "I love you."

Romano flinches at those words, doesn't believe them. Not for a second. He doesn't even know how he feels about Antonio. He hates him, and he loves him. Wants to never see him again, and never leave his side. He doesn't know what is true. If he's the fucked up one, if Spain made him that way or if he came by it honestly. He feels all these things at once and he's vibrating with the emotion of this moment. He feels like he's going to explode. It _hurts_.

"I can't do this anymore." He says.

When he closes the door behind him, he's not sure what to feel. But he pulls out his phone and types up a message to his brother.

Romano's hands sink into his pockets, shoulders hunched against the bite of wind. Its not quite winter yet, but its getting there. One of his fingernails snags the satin lining of his pocket and he breathes out a sigh. He'd meant to cut them earlier. After his shower. _Remember_ , he'd thought before stepping under the lukewarm spray and the water promptly washed away all of his plans.

His phone vibrates, and he's already walking before he reads it.

He's going to meet his brother for coffee. Or hot chocolate. He hasn't decided yet. 


End file.
